


O teach me how I should forget to think

by subplotter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: BDSM, College AU, D/s, Face Slapping, M/M, Mild age gap, Negotiated kink, No actual sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 03:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3635496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subplotter/pseuds/subplotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murphy craves submission on a night he’s not supposed to ask for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	O teach me how I should forget to think

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _Romeo and Juliet_.
> 
> Bother me on [tumblr](http://daddydombellamyblake.tumblr.com) if you so wish <3

The rule was that Bellamy could have him whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted, within reason. Meaning that he couldn't just walk into one of his classes and nab him; it had to be when Murphy was relatively free. And no nights before a big test or anything like that. But Murphy hadn't really anticipated the way it would nag at him. It had been nearly a month since they'd discussed this rule, and Bellamy had yet to take advantage.

But that was Bellamy's decision. Even if it had been Murphy's idea, because he was the one who got off on being forced. Murphy understood that. But maybe tonight he was particularly irritable, and maybe the only thing that sounded good was being under Bellamy.

Tonight Bellamy was grading papers. Tonight Bellamy had told him no texting, no sexting, no coming over. Murphy sat on the couch in the lounge with a mathbook in his lab and a pencil in his hand, fingers moving back and forth, back and forth, turning the end of the pencil into a blur in the air. Murphy wasn't good at math. But even English majors needed some math, apparently.

His angry restlessness boiled over under his skin, and he snapped the mathbook shut, crunching up the notebook paper he'd had resting inside. And then it was straight up to his room to throw the mathbook on his bed, shrug his leather jacket over his shoulders, grab his cigarettes and his lighter, and leave. 

He wasn't going to go to Bellamy's. He was just going to walk in that general direction, cigarette glowing in the dark that had settled over campus. He made his way out of the building and onto a sidewalk, walking fast, trying to get rid of how terribly he wanted it: the calm feeling that settled over his mind when Bellamy was mean to him. It was everything. It made everything better. It was the best escape there was. It was better even than reading, and Murphy devoured books like he devoured the cigarette between his lips.

He wasn't going to go inside. But he did stop outside of Bellamy's apartment building, counting the lit-up windows until he pinpointed Bellamy's. He hadn't been lying, probably. He was probably definitely doing work. But Murphy couldn't see. He just saw an orange square, and what he thought was maybe the outline of a lamp or something.

Fuck it. If Bellamy didn't want him to feel like this, he shouldn't make him feel so good when they were together.

He made his way to the front of the building, opening the door and walking into the lobby. He pushed the button to the elevator and swallowed hard. Bellamy was going to be mad. But Murphy liked negative attention probably more than he liked positive, so it didn't matter. He'd still feel better. Or at least he'd feel different.

Once he was outside of Bellamy's apartment, he lifted his fist. And he was about to knock, but he hesitated, trying to breathe. His heart was beating hard in his ears; he could hear his own blood rushing. But he needed to see Bellamy. He needed to be near him.

He knocked three times.

A second or two later, Murphy could hear rustling behind the door, and then the scrape of the chain lock. When Bellamy opened the door his eyes were blank at first, but they immediately hardened.

"Murphy," he said. "There something wrong with you? Are you injured? Because otherwise you need to walk your ass back to your dorm immediately."

 _Fuck._  Murphy closed his eyes and took a breath. Bellamy's tone only had him craving what he wanted more, and he was terrified Bellamy wouldn't give it to him. "There is something wrong," he said, and opened his eyes.

Bellamy stepped into the hallway and crossed his arms. "Tell me."

"Um. I... I want you."

Bellamy gave a cruel laugh, though his anger had seemed to ebb a little. "That's not a good enough reason. You know I'm busy. I'm grading  _your_  fucking essay.”

Murphy swallowed. "Right now?"

"No. It's in the stack. That's not the point, though. You need to go."

"Bellamy--"

"What." Bellamy took a step forward, tipping his own chin up.

"I can't go. I can't focus on anything. Just let me lie on your bed or something. I won't say anything. I'll just fuck around on my phone."

Bellamy's gaze grew a little pained. He sighed. "You know this isn't how this D/s shit is supposed to work." But he turned around and went back into his apartment, leaving the door open.

Murphy followed him in and closed the door quietly. Bellamy moved to sit at his desk, and Murphy went to lie on his bed, rolling onto his stomach and taking out his phone as he'd said. He did peer at Bellamy, though, and there were definitely a stack of papers there. Bellamy put in earphones and resumed his work, and Murphy was quiet. He was quiet for quite a long time, and eventually he just set his phone aside and lay on his side, hands pressed together under his cheek, bangs in his eyes and his beanie down over his ears.

He didn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke on his back, drawn to consciousness by a pressure over his form. Bellamy was between his legs. The room was pitch black, and Murphy's shoes and jacket were off.

"Bellamy."

"Shh."

Bellamy settled his fingers in Murphy's beanie and pulled it off, dropping down against his groin as he kissed at his temple, his jaw. He raked his fingers through his hair.

Murphy lit up immediately. He was groggy from sleep, but that made it less difficult, being good. Sometimes he got quite moody, and Bellamy got angry, but this was soft and easy. Still, though, when Murphy reached his hands up to Bellamy's back, Bellamy gripped them both and pressed them down against the pillows above them, securing them with one hand.

The pace of Murphy's breathing picked up. The pressure around his wrists was just barely painful.

"I missed you too," said Bellamy, dark eyes like black marbles in the darkness. "But that doesn't mean you can just come over unannounced."

Murphy's stomach flipped, and his breath caught. "I'm sorry."

"That's not enough. We have to make sure this sinks in. If I let this kind of behavior slide by, you'll think you can get away with it, and you won't give me a moment of peace."

"That's not true."

Bellamy used his opposite hand to grip Murphy's jaw hard. "Don't fucking talk back to me."

The arousal burned from between Murphy's legs and flushed him red everywhere. He nodded.

Bellamy let up on his jaw. He dipped down and kissed him softly. "I'd like to slap you a few times. But if you're worried about marks on your face, there are plenty of punishments I can give you." Bellamy trailed the tip of his nose over Murphy's cheek. "Are you spacey yet?”

Murphy tried to breathe. "A little."

"Are you worried about marks? Your classmates might ask questions. Your professors might."

"I don't give a fuck what they think. I'm eighteen."

"Alright."

Murphy pressed his hips up. "Slap me. I deserve it."

Bellamy made a sound in his throat. And then he sat up a little, the pressure on Murphy's wrists increasing as he leaned on the grip for support.

"Remember," he said. "This is because you disobeyed me." And then he slapped Murphy hard across the cheek.

Murphy's head snapped to the side. He gasped. A stinging pain bloomed over his cheek.

And then Bellamy did it again. And again. And again.

Murphy disappeared. He felt himself reacting, but the pain was numbing, and his head was doing the thing he'd been wanting it to do so badly back in his dorm. Subspace. Bellamy had explained it to him in sure, gentle words. Murphy hadn't really understood until he'd felt it.

He strained against the grip at his wrists. His heart was hammering wildly, and the pain was becoming too much. He whined. He pled. Bellamy didn't stop until he was crying.

And then it was a pause and two more slaps before it was over for good.

Bellamy let go of Murphy's wrists. He petted through his hair gently. "Breathe," he said.

Murphy did. His breaths were frantic at first, but he calmed the longer Bellamy touched him like this: gentle, soothing.

The stinging was a gentle throb at both of his cheeks.

"Are you okay?" said Bellamy.

"Y-Yeah," said Murphy. His face was wet, but the tears were letting up now.

Bellamy shifted him slowly onto his side and moved to lie against his back, holding him close. He kissed at the back of Murphy's neck and breathed against his hair.

"What time is it?" said Murphy.

"Late," said Bellamy. "Just sleep. I know when your first class is, I set an alarm."

All worries slipped out of Murphy's head then. And he relaxed more completely, his head slipping into a calm, fuzzy state.

"Thank you," he said, resting his hand over Bellamy's where it pressed securely over Murphy's chest.

"You're welcome. We'll have a talk about what to do when you feel like that again, alright? I don't want your grades slipping because of me."

"Okay, Bellamy.”

Bellamy pressed a gentle kiss behind Murphy's ear. And then they went still, and Murphy drifted off to sleep again.


End file.
